Appetence
by Albino Shadowz
Summary: Formerly "Intemperate". Ryou has a voracious desire for human blood. After being found half dead in the snow by a man named Bakura, he is slowly nursed back to health by way of feeding off of his begrudging rescuer. AU Vampirism Dark Tendershipping
1. Intemperate

**APPETENCE**

**_I. Intemperate_  
**

* * *

_There was a thing lying in the snow. It was a skeletal thing. A naked thing. And it looked a lot like a dead thing._

_Bakura nudged it with his foot._

_At first it didn't move. He nudged it again to be sure, and he thought he saw it shiver._

_Despite its movement Bakura started to trudge away from the dead-looking-but-alive thing, but after only a few dragged steps through the foot-deep snow he turned back. There was something a bit like guilt gnawing at his insides, biting incessantly and devouring the organs piece by bloody piece._

_Bakura found himself wrapping his arms around the bony thing in order to pick it up. His coat and gloves were thick so he didn't have to worry about touching its filthy skin. Its body was incredibly light, though Bakura wasn't surprised based on its emaciated frame. When he picked it up its head rolled to the side as though its neck was broken. Bakura barely noticed, though. He was much more distracted by an extremely prominent feature revealed by its slightly parted lips._

_Fangs._

_His first impulse was to scream bloody murder and drop the thing. Bakura did neither, of course. But he did feel his heartbeat quicken as he came to the realization that he was holding a vampire, a creature infamous for leaving humans as nothing but withered bloodless husks._

_But this pitiful little thing didn't look capable of sucking the blood out of a mosquito, much less a human. And that goddamned guilt took a sizeable bite out of his heart when he considered leaving it there again._

_A time later Bakura found himself gently washing the thing with a rag, scrubbing away the grayish layer of dirt with warm sudsy water. Though he could clearly see its genitalia as he washed its body, Bakura still refused to acknowledge that 'it' was a 'he'. That would make it sound human or something. And this repulsive little creature was anything but human._

_"I should dump it back outside," Bakura muttered, not bothering to speak towards the unconscious thing before him. "I shouldn't have even picked it up in the first place."_

_The guilt came back with a vengeance. And it only grew when the little naked thing opened its eyes._

_He didn't notice at first, but then he felt the weight of the thing's gaze on him. Bakura trailed his gaze up its ribs, the skin stretched taut over the bones, and its delicate neck. His eyes lingered on the pale pink pair of lips for a moment, then he darted a glance at its own eyes._

_They were much less vicious then he thought they'd be. In fact, 'vicious' wouldn't even be on a list of words to describe them. Bakura unconsciously began to stare._

_What happened to him—? No, it. The thing was an it._

_"Th… t-th…" it let out a small, choked noise._

_"What are you trying to say?"_

_"T-thirsty."_

_Bakura abruptly stood up and backed a few paces away. He didn't plan on being the one to supply the thing with a meal. Why had he even brought it into his house in the first place..? Stupid, stupid!_

_"W-wait!" the thing made an attempt to stand, but its limbs were too weak to support it for more than a moment._

_It fell back to the floor in a heap. "No, no, p-please don't leave me here."_

_"You little freak. You want my blood, don't you?" Bakura tried to locate something heavy in the room that he could use to shatter its skull. "Don't you, you leech?"_

_"I'm sorry… but I haven't fed for months. Please… please just let me—"_

_"Why should I?"_

_The thing wailed. "My stomach feels like it's digesting itself!"_

_"Look, I don't care. I'm not letting you bite my neck and—"_

_"B-but I don't have to do that! I can drink from your wrist or your ankle or wherever you like. Just please let me have some of your blood…"_

_Bakura didn't know it at the time, but he would let the little creature feed off of him. Multiple times, actually._

_It most certainly didn't want to kill anyone, contrary to popular belief. All it wanted was to have somewhere to sleep and someone who would feed it. Bakura was capable of providing these things… and since he didn't have the heart to just kill the thing and be done with it…_

_The two came to an agreement (it was more like Bakura making a command) that the thing would live in the basement of his home, not to be seen nor heard nor detected with any other sense. Once every week Bakura would climb down the stairs to visit the little 'leech' as he liked to call it, and he would allow it to drink its fill of his blood._

_Maybe it was sheer pity that caused Bakura to tolerate the hated thing he then allowed to sleep under his roof and feed off of him. Maybe he had a change of heart. Or something corny like that._

_Bakura still refused to acknowledge the creature as anything less than an it, even when he learned that 'it' had a name._

_To him, 'Ryou' sounded much too nice a thing to call such a disgusting little parasite._

* * *

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

* * *

With every sluggish heartbeat blood gushed into Ryou's mouth like a draught of alcohol. It may as well have been, because he was completely and thoroughly intoxicated. A mouthful of blood with every heartbeat wasn't enough, either, he needed more. Ryou pressed his tongue into the twin wounds that his fangs had formed, then began to drink greedily. Bakura's creamy white skin was becoming paler with every second, shifting to a color whiter than bone.

It didn't matter how cold the stale air of the basement was against his trembling, naked body or how desperately he wanted to taste the world outside again or how the inside of his hollow heart felt, all that mattered was the surging warmth pouring onto his tongue. The warmth and the taste and Bakura.

Ryou dug his fingernails, long and ragged and sharp, into the pliable flesh along Bakura's arm. He was only allowed to feed from Bakura's left wrist. Every place else was strictly forbidden. He had gotten hungry enough to disobey the rule once. After having his feeding privileges restricted even more than usual he didn't try it again.

The only source of light was a candle that Bakura had left in the corner. It flickered and sputtered and did little more than show how grungy the basement was, but it was light.

Bakura himself was sitting on a chair as he allowed Ryou to feed, his free arm hanging limply at his side, and an unreadable expression on his face. No, that's not right. It wasn't quite unreadable. There was disgust shown by his curled lip as he stared down at the malnourished thing crouching on the floor and desperately grasping his left arm, a thing he regarded as a filthy parasite and nothing more. There was something that wasn't strong enough to be hatred glinting in his eyes despite the grainy light. But when he limply lifted his free hand up and began to stroke Ryou's thick white hair there was something like endearment in the gesture.

Ryou froze for a moment when Bakura's slender fingers touched him. But then his fear melted away and Ryou welcomed the touch as he gulped down another mouthful of blood. His stomach was completely and utterly full; brimming with what had become a tepid substance. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with his head rested against Bakura and sleep. Despite this he continued to drink. He gulped and slurped and swallowed and he became even fuller than before. Bakura untangled his hand from Ryou's hair and reached down to press his fingertips to the sizeable swell beneath his ribs.

He stroked the taut skin for a moment in something close to interest, then said quietly, "That's enough. You don't need any more."

A weak moan was the only response. Maybe he didn't need any more… but he most certainly wanted it…

"I said that's enough." Bakura's tone turned icy.

Ryou sank his teeth in a little more deeply. Bakura grabbed a fistful of Ryou's hair and tugged, ripping out a good number of strands and putting a large amount of strain on some others. Ryou whimpered, tears stinging like needles in his eyes. Slowly his grip on Bakura's arm relaxed and he removed his fangs from his wrist. He licked the twin wounds apologetically, but Bakura wasn't so quick to forgive.

"What the hell did I tell you about overindulging?" he demanded and gave the other's hair a sharp pull.

Though Bakura would never admit it, Ryou knew he was afraid of him. There was a constant shadow of paranoia behind the hatred in his eyes, and at the moment he could smell the distinct stench of fright coming off of Bakura in waves despite his angry expression. And why not? The rest of the world hated and feared his kind the same way. Bakura just hated him a little less than the rest. The fear, however, was still there.

Ryou pressed his face to Bakura's knees.

"I'm sorry. I got excited… and…" And you smell delicious and you're so, so warm and I don't want you to leave and— "I was thirsty."

It was always the same. Thirst. It may as well have been engraved into his face. Or his stomach. That would have been more fitting.

"Leeches like you are always thirsty," Bakura sneered, the flickering light glinting off of his teeth, then abruptly his expression shifted into a scowl, causing the shadows to hide in the contours of his face. "Why do I even bother to provide for you when you're insatiable? You're fully prepared to drink me dry."

"W-what? No! I would never do that to you!" Ryou shook his head profusely and hugged Bakura's legs with much more rigidity than before.

Despite his lean frame, Ryou thought Bakura was so very soft and gave off a lot of heat, especially when compared to the rest of the room. He wanted nothing more than to snuggle closer and leech off of his body heat… There was that word again. 'Leech'. It hurt when Bakura called him that.

"Oh, that's right," Bakura's tone held the same derisive tone. "You wouldn't want to get rid of your only source of food."

"No, no, Bakura, that's not—"

"Shut up."

Ryou fell silent despite the protests still bubbling up in his throat. It wouldn't do him any good to argue with Bakura. His anger always resulted in punishments. Not the physical kind; Bakura was too afraid of him to do that. It was much better to simply have an extended amount of time before he fed him again. That was what had happened this most recent time… it had been two weeks instead of one before Bakura came to feed him. And, like a starving animal, this resulted in Ryou becoming greedier than usual.

"I-I'm sorry, Bakura. You're right. I'm disgusting." Ryou slowly retracted his arms from around Bakura's legs and curled them around himself in a self-hug, bony hands locking onto his shoulders. "But I would never try to purposely hurt you… It's just, sometimes I can't help it. You know… your blood tastes wonderful. I wouldn't want to have anyone else's."

He was trying to be complimentary, but Bakura looked even more repulsed than before. Ryou shrank back as the other stared dispassionately at the vampire's stomach. It had become bulging and rotund as a result of this particularly gluttonous feeding session, looking very strange on his skeletal body. Ryou became disgusted with himself as Bakura continued to stare at the bulge and he brought his legs to his chest to hide it from view.

There was a long silence in which Bakura continued to gaze intently at Ryou.

"Don't take that much next time. And stop when I tell you to." he finally said, then let out a bitter chuckle, one that almost sounded as though it was grating along the sides of his throat. "One of these days you're going to wind up killing me. Then what'll you do?"

Ryou wasn't sure how or even if he should answer. It didn't matter, because Bakura stood up and walked away. Ryou stared after him as he slowly ascended the stairs and listened to the distinct sound of a key sliding into the rusty lock that was the only thing restricting him from leaving the basement. He had tried to break it a few times, but his frail body didn't provide much help breaking down doors.

The door slammed, a little harder than Bakura probably intended. The lock clicked. Ryou didn't move.

Would he be coming back? Ryou would know in a week, he supposed… What with all of the blood he had consumed, his survival until then was guaranteed. The disgust with himself from before was washing over him with renewed vigor.

Bakura was right.

Ryou stuck three clawed fingers into his mouth and gagged when he hit the reflex at the back of his throat. He probed at the soft flesh with his dirty nails until he felt bile begin to swim in his throat before he was sick. He heaved until all of the blood that Bakura had allowed him to take was on the floor. It was a waste, it was such a waste, but he didn't deserve Bakura's generosity. He didn't deserve to live.

The warmth quickly fled from his body as easily as if he had never drank anything at all, and the sweet taste in his mouth was replaced by the bitter residue of vomit.

* * *

**It's ironic because Bakura is the landlord and Ryou is the parasite instead of the other way around. :D This was just supposed to be a short one-shot to help get rid of my writer's block, but then I got inspired… :)  
**

**EDIT: GAHHH, it screwed up the format when I first uploaded it! *Fixes*  
**

**Review? o~o**

**~Albino Shadowz**


	2. Vampire Killer, Human Killer

_**II. Vampire Killer, Human Killer**_

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**Thanks to my lovely reviewers: xXAnachronismEpsIceXx, DarkspiritYami, Pink-Sheepies, (Guest) Serenity, and darkelf777. =3 You guys are super sweet!**

* * *

Bakura had a different sort of drinking problem than the creature he allowed to feed from him. But imbibing large quantities of alcohol wasn't nearly the same as being a bloodthirsty monster. Or so he told himself.

The bite marks on his wrist were still bleeding torrents as he hadn't bothered to clean or bandage them yet. The skin around the latest bite was puffy and swollen, light pink in color. That night the leech had sucked particularly eagerly on the wound it inflicted and the result of its eagerness almost looked like—Bakura cringed at the thought—a very, very violent hickey.

He took a large swallow of his drink to help rid himself of such thinking.

Despite the fact that he was keeping his gaze trained on a large carving in the countertop of the bar (it looked a bit like an eye) Bakura couldn't help but detect the amount of activity that was going on around him. The noise, for instance, was near impossible to ignore. Everyone there was screaming or shouting or laughing or something—that is, those that weren't hunched over the bar like he was or passed out on the floor drowning in their own vomit. Speaking of which, the guy a few feet away was beginning to smell rather disgusting. Bakura spared the limp body a glance before curling his lip and turning and taking an even larger gulp of alcohol than before. He savored the heat that coursed down his throat and felt as though it was burning in his stomach.

Bakura felt extremely lightheaded, but he wasn't sure whether it was a result of his drinking or the large quantity of blood he had lost. Maybe it was a combination of both. Some blood dribbled out of the newest bite mark to land in a tiny, ungainly splat on the table. He stared at it for a long moment, as if hoping that if he stared long enough it would congeal before his eyes. It did no such thing, of course. Instead another droplet of blood spattered down next to it. And another. It was beginning to form a small puddle, some of it dribbling into the carving of the eye.

There were many still-healing scars that littered Bakura's wrist, as the leech never seemed to be able to control itself enough to break into exactly the same spot twice, and they had cracked open again upon this most recent time allowing it to satiate its appetite. He had counted them a while ago and found that there were around a dozen, some overlapping with others to form ugly, messy marks that formed like thick ropes of flesh along his wrist. It would have been better if they had healed cleanly to leave nothing but little white shadows of bite marks, scars that would have blended into his milky skin quite nicely. But he wasn't that lucky.

A sharp whistle disturbed Bakura from examining the scars any further. "What's going on with your arm? You have a fetish for people biting you there?"

Bakura took a sideways glance at the man to the left of him and grimaced. "Why, do you have a fetish for people cutting your face?"

The man gave him an equally sour expression, causing the elaborate design in the marred skin on the right side of his face to become even more pronounced as the skin stretched. The pale scar contrasted with his caramel brown skin tone (Bakura had to wonder where he was from—certainly someone so tan wouldn't live here) and was much too perfect to look like an accident.

It was at that moment in time that Bakura drew his eyes away from the marks and took a cursory glance at the rest of the man's body. He was significantly better built than him, he observed with a small twinge of jealousy, and a good head taller, too, as far as he could tell while was sitting down. The other glared heatedly at him through pale blue eyes that might have been intimidating had they not looked so… foggy.

"Is there any particular reason you're staring at me?"

"We wouldn't happen to be related, would we? Long-lost brothers or something?" Bakura asked with a raised eyebrow, attempting to reroute the conversation in a direction that wouldn't end up in an argument and (if the other was drunk or angry enough) possible violence. "After all, you don't come across too many people with hair like ours."

"Doubt it," the man sneered. "I think I'd remember being related to someone like you."

"Oh? And what makes me so special?"

The other's eyes flicked to his wrist for a fraction of a second, causing Bakura the muscles in his back to tighten and his free hand to curl into the beginning of a fist. He was mentally cursing himself for not bandaging up the wounds like he usually did.

The man's voice lowered and he leaned until he was within an uncomfortably close proximity with Bakura, then said, "I think I'd realize if any part of my family was _your kind_."

The final two words were spat as though they were poison.

Bakura turned a shade paler (if such a thing is possible) but smiled, though it probably showed that it was painful to perform such an action and that his teeth were gritted. "Not sure what you mean by that."

It was the man's turn to raise an eyebrow. But while Bakura had made the gesture in an attempt to quell his anger, he looked like he wanted to provoke it.

"What's your name?"

Bakura blinked and his tenseness eased a bit, though confusion quickly overtook the relief. After all, it did seem an odd question to bring up right after the man had practically accused him of being a vampire. He briefly considered giving the man a fake name, but the alcohol loosened his tongue enough that his actual one wound up slipping through his lips in spite of himself.

To his surprise, the other responded with just as much ease, "Akefia."

Bakura nodded awkwardly, unsure of just how to respond. The guy was a whackjob, that was for sure, and there was no reason to even entertain the idea of speaking to him any longer.

Without any explanation (as if the "Akefia" deserved one anyway) Bakura left with as much dignity as one can muster when one is half drunk. That is to say, tripping every few paces and walking in a haphazard zigzag despite the fact he was sure he was going in a straight line.

* * *

Akefia stared after Bakura.

White hair, brown eyes, slender. He was a bit taller and more well-groomed than his employer had described, but it was a detail that could easily be looked over.

Akefia traced the delicate scar tissue on his right cheek with the tip of a tanned, roughened finger. Even after he killed Ryou Bakura—odd that he had introduced himself by his last name instead of his first—he would still have to go find the other one.

* * *

Yugi Moto was contemplating his next meal with a fanged smile stretched across his plump little face, heliotrope eyes shining with greed. He nuzzled one of the girl's thighs, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of both her blood throbbing beneath the thin layer of skin and her womanhood so tantalizingly close to him.

It was as if someone had wrapped her up and given her to him as a Christmas present. The window was open, the girl was sleeping, and she was clad in little more than her underwear. It was too perfect.

Upon coming in through the window Yugi had instantly parted her legs to settle his undersized body between them, chin resting in a rather perverse manner at the apex of her thighs. He was having trouble deciding whether or not to gulp down her blood like he had originally intended or play a much more interesting game. He had very few opportunities to inspect the secret treasure nestled between a woman's thighs (when they were still breathing, anyway) and couldn't halt his curiosity. He could do little more than look down in that general direction, though, before his pasty white face would be tinged with pink and he would lose his confidence. But at the moment his primary need was satiating his hunger, not inspecting a girl's private parts, so it was with a disappointed sigh that he closed his mouth over the nearest available space of flesh and bit down. There was a small, juicy noise as his fangs sank through a layer of muscle and fat, then significantly louder ones as his throat contracted around huge swallows of her blood.

To get more comfortable Yugi slowly twined his stocky limbs around the girl's leg, hugging it to himself as though it was a giant doll. The girl whimpered a little in her sleep and at one point shifted her entire body, but her midget bloodsucker wasn't deterred. He continued to drink until his stomach felt constricted by the thick belt and skintight leather clothes he insisted on wearing. Even then he merely stopped for long enough to loosen the belt to its fullest extent before latching back onto her thigh.

It wasn't until towards the end when he was just beginning to feel full that he realized the girl's heart had stopped beating. Yugi blinked and removed his fangs, lapping up the excess blood that appeared to be drooling out of the bite marks. He glanced at the girl's face to see that she had gone ashen and her lips were parted. No signs of breathing could be seen or heard.

Just to be sure, Yugi crawled on top of her torso to get a closer look at her face. She was most definitely and positively dead.

"You're kind of pretty. Sorry for killing you," he said solemnly.

As one would expect, there wasn't an answer.

"You kind of remind me of somebody, too. Have you ever met Anzu Mazaki? She has—well, she had—a nice figure like yours…" Yugi glanced down and gave the dead girl's breasts a squeeze, smiling a little at his audacity. "And I accidentally killed her, too. I have a bad habit of doing that."

The corpse still wasn't the best at making conversation, but Yugi didn't mind.

"Anyway, thanks for dinner. I was starving."

He leaned down and gave the girl a small peck on her pale, lifeless lips, smearing some of her blood onto them. In spite of himself he blushed a little bit before retreating.

Yugi was a bit more sluggish than usual as he escaped from the house. As he darted through the darkened streets, the blood sloshed around in his stomach as if it was a giant water balloon.

It was for that reason that he paid more attention to a stray scent he detected then he usually would have. Any excuses to stop and quell the feeling of his full belly bouncing around were good enough for him. Besides, it was interesting, to say the least. It was the scent of someone he knew for sure, but couldn't place straight away. What was really interesting, though, was that it was tinged with blood. And where blood was, there was always something exciting…

He crept up to a house where the scent was strongest, small nose twitching occasionally. Yugi tilted his head slightly and parted his lips, tasting the air, and a moment later his already enormous eyes grew a little wider.

"Ryou?"

* * *

**Yugi, what have I done to you? **

**Review? :3**

**~Albino Shadowz**


	3. Of Nightmares and Nudity

_**III. Of Nightmares and Nudity**_

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**Thank you to Crystia, DarkspiritYami, randompandaglitter, Pharaoh Silver, Lazy Gaga, featherwing25, Zambino, and YGOfangirl4ever for your lovely reviews. :)**

* * *

_She looked like a porcelain doll, as always. But maybe a few shades too white. Ryou wanted to cover up his eyes so he wouldn't have to look, but he could only stare with tears streaming down his face and red dripping out of his mouth. _

"_Amane..?"_

_His little sister lay limply on the ground, adding more to the doll like feel. She didn't move when he touched her tiny icy cold hand. His stomach felt warm and full, but he couldn't bring himself to feel good about it._

"_Amane, stop it. Get up." Ryou's face crumpled further and the tears started coming more quickly. "Please get up…"_

_He didn't know what to do. He still didn't when his mother came._

_Ryou had never seen her with such a horrified, disgusted look on her face, and she flinched away when he tried to reach for her. "I-I'm sorry, Mama! I didn't mean to!"_

_His mother had scooped up the limp little corpse in her arms, holding it to herself protectively. Protecting it from him, Ryou realized dully._

_This time he did cover his eyes when he wailed, "I'm sorry!"_

"_You killed her!" She screamed hysterically. "You killed her, you _monster!"

Ryou woke up with tears streaming down his face, momentarily disoriented by the suddenly unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a long moment to remember, and after that he lay back into the warm puddle of drying blood, eyes partially closed as his breath shuddered in and out of his lungs.

The nightmare was shoved into the dark recesses of his memory, back where it belonged, and the tears were wiped away on the back of his wrist. He would not torment himself by thinking about it. His past haunted his psyche enough when he was sleeping.

He turned over in the puddle and attempted to go back to sleep. For a time he had relished in the lukewarm mixture of blood and bile, pulling his body completely into it to retain heat. All too quickly it cooled and dried, leaving Ryou with a sticky coating on a good percentage of his skin and caught in the snarls of his pale hair. It was just as well. He much preferred the thought of obtaining such heat from a human's temperate body, much comfier than any mattress or blanket. The vampire craved to fall asleep with something not only warm and supple, but with a loud, throbbing heartbeat.

Ryou's mouth watered and he licked his still-bitter tasting, cracked lips at his imaginings. The inside of his throat and mouth tasted sour even after he swallowed experimentally a couple of times, and he had little luck with his attempts to fall back asleep. Slowly he sat up, putting one hand on the slick floor. If he was going to starve to death, then he would prefer doing it in a more comfortable position. Ryou leaned against the cool concrete wall, prominent spine making it slightly painful but nevertheless more relaxing then lying in his own sick.

A rumble and slight pain gurgled in his concave abdomen. He glanced down before putting one hand to it, remembering wistfully how it his stomach had been filled to the brim and then some a while beforehand.

Quite suddenly Ryou was overwhelmed with hopelessness and self-pity. When it came right down to it, he was killing himself. The thought was terrifying… and depressing. No! He was being selfish. He _deserved _to die after all of the trouble he'd caused... all of the lives he'd ruined...

A hot prickling sensation welled up in his eyes and he realized too late that he was on the edge of crying. Ryou bowed his head and narrowed his eyes even as he let out a small hiccup and his shoulders began to shake.

He bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to contain his whimpers but only accomplished in cutting through the soft tissue with one of his fangs. A tiny globule of blood welled up in the slice and trickled down to mix with some of where Bakura's had dried. His tongue slithered out to sample some of the concoction only to cause himself to gag. Both the old blood and Ryou's own tasted bitterer than the sick residue already left in his mouth from forcing himself to vomit.

After an immeasurable amount of time sitting covered in what used to be his meal for the week Ryou thought he heard a faint rattling noise. His ears perked up as he turned his attention to the door at the top of the stairs. There were a few muffled curses before the door was abruptly slammed open, causing Ryou to cringe. He shrank back into the far corner of the room in a desperate attempt to make himself seem smaller as he peered out into the darkness.

"Leech!" He heard an all-too-familiar voice snarl. "What did you do?"

"Bakura..?" Ryou whispered to himself in disbelief.

He shouldn't have expected anyone else, really, but… Bakura never came in between feeding days, and certainly never twice in the same day. And if his incessant yelling was anything to judge by, he was under the impression that Ryou had done something very, very wrong.

"Answer me!" Bakura stormed down the steps loudly enough that Ryou feared they would break. "Why the hell does it smell like a butchery? Did you go out and kill someone?"

Apparently Ryou had underestimated the capability of the human nose to detect the scent of blood and the ability of the basement to keep said scent from flowing to the rest of the house. He swallowed hard before getting to his feet. Bakura wasn't going to be happy…

"I'm over here," he said.

He knew he didn't imagine the momentary look of revulsion that flitted across Bakura's face as he took in the sight of Ryou drenched in blood with a particularly large stain running down his chin, though the shock and terror was quickly hidden behind a mask of rage.

"You'd better have one hell of an explanation for this," Bakura hissed as he stalked forward.

With him he brought the stench of smoke, cheap drinks, and other people's sweat. Even the blood that Ryou usually found so luscious was tainted with alcohol. He fought down the urge to gag as he tasted all of the vile scents mixed together, and any appetite that he may have had was significantly diminished.

Bakura looked at him haggardly. "_Well? _Was what I gave you just not enough to satisfy your greed, you sick little freak?"

"N-no," Ryou said slowly, hanging his head so he wouldn't have to look in Bakura's eyes. He took a deep breath before blurting, "I threw it up. All of it."

Bakura gave him a disbelieving look and Ryou realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was still under the impression that the blood belonged to someone he had slaughtered.

"I thought my blood tasted '_wonderful_' to you, leech," Bakura said, voice oozing contempt as he grabbed a hold of Ryou's bicep, causing the smaller of the two to stiffen. "Are you telling me I gave up more than usual just for you to become bulimic?"

Ryou opened his mouth to whimper out some semblance of an excuse, but what came out instead was a shaky request: "Please let go of me."

Bakura looked down at where he had a grip on Ryou's arm, blinking slowly as if he hadn't realized that he had grabbed him in the first place. Instead of releasing him he scowled and tightened his hold, long, spindly fingers fitting easily around the bony limb and then some before squeezing tightly.

It didn't hurt Ryou very badly, but he still didn't like it. His left arm, which Bakura just so happened to be holding, had sustained a nasty injury from a vampire killer that he didn't like to be reminded of. A knife wound would usually mean nothing to a vampire, what with their ability to heal more quickly than humans, but this particular knife had been dipped in poison and carved up Ryou's arm like it was made of butter.

Not to mention that, other than a few tugs on his hair and small cuffs on his ears, Bakura had never provoked Ryou physically. There were few times when he actually initiated friendly contact with the vampire, but that was usually shown with hesitant strokes or pats as though he was an exotic pet.

"Let _go, _Bakura," he said, this time less shaky and more demanding. Had he been at full strength he could have broken out of the hold as easily as a grown man could fend off a small child. As it was, though, he was malnourished and weak.

Bakura sneered. "And if I don't?"

Ryou's usual kicked puppy face was descending into the familiar first stages of distress, and with it came something much more unfamiliar and potent—anger. The vampire was hungry, upset, and being held against his will. He found himself fighting the urge to hiss. "If you don't… I'll… I'll…"

"You'll what? Tear my throat out? Rip my heart from my chest? Take a bite out of my guts?" Bakura listed off, holding even more tightly. "Fine! I'd like to see you _try._"

At that Ryou's anger quickly dissipated, as did his resolve. "You… you think I would do that..?"

"Of course I do!" Bakura spat. "You may be pathetic, but I know you're still a bloodthirsty _monster_."

Ryou hung his head and went limp in Bakura's grip. Monster… that hurt even worse than being called a leech. Bakura had never called him that before, though he probably thought it often enough. And… it reminded him of…

Unbidden his nightmare came back to him and with it the image his bloodless little sister.

"…Hey… what are you—are you _crying_?" Bakura asked in incredulity.

Ryou let out a choked wail in response. "W-why did you have to come down here? Why couldn't… couldn't you just let me _die_?"

Bakura didn't seem to be listening too closely to what he was saying, concentrating more on trying to quiet him. "_Shhh!_" He shook Ryou, which only caused the vampire to sob harder. "Shut up! Someone's going to hear you!"

Ryou was too busy crying to remind Bakura that no one would be able to hear him while they were in the basement. The hot tears slid down his cheeks to mix with the blood and form a thick substance that dripped off of his face in thick brownish red droplets. Ryou continued to keen, sounding like a mutilated and dying baby animal. Abruptly it was smothered by something warm and stinking of bars. He blinked, tears still streaming down his face as he realized that Bakura had him in a position that was dangerously close to a hug.

"_Be quiet,_" Bakura commanded, one hand reaching up to tangle his fingers into Ryou's bloodied hair and give a firm yank on it.

Ryou hiccupped and buried his face in Bakura's chest in an attempt to calm himself, letting out shuddering breaths. Meanwhile Bakura's hand had started to pet his hair instead of pull on it.

"God, I don't know what set you off, but could you not cry like that?" Bakura asked gruffly.

Ryou didn't answer except for to wrap his freed arms around Bakura's waist and sidle his skeletal, chilled body closer to the human's warm one. Bakura still smelled horrible, but it felt nice being so close to someone when he wasn't feeding from them. Ryou could feel the dull throb of a heartbeat against his cheek and felt a small twinge of hunger.

After a few moments of awkward silence broken only by Ryou's small hiccups he was forced back by Bakura, whose expression was once more clouded with disgust. It was easy to see why, too: The dried blood that had been all over Ryou's body was smeared all over his clothing as well.

Bakura exhaled slowly through his nose before once again grabbing Ryou's arm, this time by the wrist. "Come on," he said simply said before he started dragging the vampire towards the staircase.

"W-where are we going?" Ryou found himself pulling back a little bit out of instinct more than anything else. Bakura never once let him out of the basement. Maybe he was going to try to throw him back out in the cold. Or attempt to stab him through the chest with a piece of wood like his father had.

Bakura pulled harder, easily dragging Ryou along. "You're going to wash yourself. I can't stand the sight of you right now."

A few minutes later Ryou found himself lying on the cool tile of the same bathroom Bakura had cleaned him when he had first found him. Bakura sat on the counter, staring with frightening intensity at the other. He claimed that Ryou wasn't worth using up the water for a bath or shower before dispassionately throwing a wet rag at him.

It was still nighttime outside, so the small overhead light was turned on. Ryou found heat beginning to rise to his cheeks. He'd been naked for all of the time he had lived with Bakura, but... in the basement it had been dark and he hadn't felt so exposed. Now, though, the stark light reminded him of his nudity and made him want to cover himself up.

"U-um..." he mumbled.

"What?" Bakura barked, glaring as if Ryou had just insulted him.

"Could you..." Ryou fiddled with the rag. "Could you maybe not watch?"

"No," Bakura responded flatly, lips twisted partially in the start of a frown.

The vampire was taken aback. "W-why not?"

"And have you attack me the minute my back is turned? No."

Ryou had to bite back his usual response of 'I wouldn't do that!'. Maybe he _would _hurt Bakura if given the opportunity. His stomach's wheedling complaints had turned into full on demands and he wasn't sure how long he would be able to go without turning feral out of bloodlust.

His impending wild state and the prospect of washing the blood off of himself while Bakura was watching would have to wait, however. He couldn't very well concentrate on either of those things when Yugi showed up outside the bathroom window.

* * *

**HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYBODY! *Lets a firework go off* 1/1/13, baby! :D Awww, yeah!**  
**Leave me a review so I can start the year off right! ;) **  
**~Albino Shadowz**


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